Chapter 4 The Savage Awakens
Twelve years ago…
At the isolated fortress of Vilehold Keep, perched on the border of Noclan Dominion and the Kingdom of Legulia, a morning routine unfolded. The soldiers and mercenaries, who’d been stationed here to defend the border from Noclan's aggressive expansion, practiced drills, their movements precise but heavy with the weight of monotony. The Kingdom’s soldiers exchanged gruff words with the mercenaries they were stationed with, but most minds wandered to the pressing concerns of a brewing war.
Two mercenaries, Dunkan and Dante, sat off to the side, avoiding the bustle of their comrades.
“Can you believe the commander sent us all the way out here?” Dunkan muttered, tossing a rock idly into the air. “It’s a damn ghost town, man. The villagers and merchants took off when Noclan declared war, and now it’s just this place and us. I’m so bored I could lose my mind!”
Dante sighed, leaning against the stone wall of the keep, his eyes scanning the horizon. “It’s not like we can blame Commander Morias for that. The nobles, especially Kaelean Dezmon, are pressuring him to send us out here. All we can do is follow orders.”
“I know, I know,” Dunkan grumbled, though the frustration was still clear in his voice. “But it doesn’t make it any easier. My family’s miles away, and we’re stuck here with no word from the capital.”
Dante nodded in agreement. He was a man of few words, but his thoughts mirrored Dunkan's. Morias Hollen, a common-born mercenary who had earned his Commandancy through sheer determination, led the Black Crows. He had earned their loyalty, but the reality of being stationed here was weighing heavily on them all.
Before the conversation could go any further, a booming voice interrupted them.
“WHAT ARE YOU TWO DOING OUT HERE!? Shouldn’t you be training!?”
The voice was unmistakable — Captain Regras, a towering figure with jet-black hair and a scowl that could freeze water.
“Captain Regras!” Dunkan and Dante both blurted in unison, scrambling to their feet, their faces a mix of embarrassment and fear.
“We’re sorry, Captain! We’re just taking a short break—” Dante tried to explain, but Regras cut him off.
“Silence!” Regras barked. His glare was cold and unyielding. “Drop and give me 100 push-ups, NOW!”
"SIR YES SIR!" the two mercenaries shouted, immediately dropping to the ground and beginning their punishment.
Regras let out a low growl. "I understand your frustration, but it's not the commander's fault. Kaelean and the other nobles hold sway over him. If he doesn't follow their orders, his loyalty will be questioned."
Kaelean Dezmon — a bastard son of a Royal, born into a minor noble house, It is obvious he have some problems with Morias Hollen being of common birth and him being in the same status despite being of Royal birth, he is a spiteful man filled with ambition and hate.
The soldier’s sudden appearance interrupted the moment. “Captain Regras, Captain Jarvan Hothorn requests your presence,” he said.
“Tell him I’ll be there shortly,” Regras replied, glancing back at Dunkan and Dante, whose faces showed relief.
“You two will finish your punishment later,” Regras said sternly. “Now, back to your training!”
“SIR YES SIR!” they both barked in unison.
Regras turned sharply, his boots echoing on the stone floor as he walked toward a nearby door where a soldier stood guard.
The soldier saluted. “What business do you have with us, Captain Regras?”
“I’ve been summoned by Captain Hothorn,” Regras replied, his tone as steely as ever.
The soldier nodded, stepping aside. “Please, enter.”
Inside, the room smelled of old parchment and the weight of impending decisions. Captain Jarvan Hothorn, an older man with a white beard and a face carved by years of battle, stood by a long table. Vice-Captain Sonia Reveck, a young noblewoman with striking green hair, hovered nearby, her gaze focused on a map of the border.
Regras didn’t waste time with pleasantries. “Captain, Vice-Captain, you called for me?”
Hothorn didn’t waste words either. “Yes, something urgent has come up.” He handed Regras a thick folder, his expression grave. “Our spies have reported movement to the south. The enemy is getting closer.”
Regras frowned. “Reinforcements from the northern border of Noclan Dominion? But we haven’t made a move yet... are they...?”
“They’re making their move,” Hothorn confirmed, his voice tinged with dread. “I fear they’re planning to strike Vilehold Keep within the next three days and there’s more-”
Reveck stepped forward, her expression tense. She placed a small, enchanted device on the table, her fingers tracing the edges. As she poured mana into it, the device hummed to life, and a glowing image flickered into existence in the air.
Regras stepped closer, his heart sinking as the image of a beast — tattered, covered in a black, viscous liquid — materialized before him. It was vaguely humanoid, but there was nothing natural about its form. The creature exuded an aura of death.
“What in the gods' names is that thing?” Regras asked, his voice low with fear.
Hothorn’s hand trembled as he spoke. “It’s called an 'undying beast.' We don’t know much more than that. What we do know is that it’s unlike anything we’ve faced. It doesn’t die. It doesn’t tire. And it hunts relentlessly.”
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Sonia’s voice was strained as she added, “It’s capable of terrifying feats — we don’t even know how many are out there, or if there’s more than one.”
Regras’ mind raced. “I’ll get the men ready,” he said, his voice firm despite the chill running down his spine. "We’ll defend this fortress, no matter the cost.”
“Good,” Hothorn replied, his voice hoarse. “Get them prepared. We don’t know what’s coming, but we’re all in this together.”
Regras nodded sharply, a grim determination settling in his chest. This wasn’t just a siege; this was something far worse. And as the weight of that reality settled on his shoulders, he steeled himself for what was to come.
-BREAK-
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“Regras the Savage…” Mava’s voice was a venomous whisper, her knuckles white as she gripped her axe. The name tasted bitter on her tongue, each syllable a reminder of betrayal and blood.
"that Axe..." Across the battlefield, Regras stood tall, his smirk as infuriating as the stories said. “Ah, the Berserker of Deinsfield herself,” he said mockingly. “To think a Hawksley would grace me with her presence. I’m honored.”
“Honored?” Mava spat, stepping forward. “You’re a traitor, Regras. A stain on Legulia. My family has upheld loyalty and justice for generations—principles you trampled when you abandoned your comrades and slaughtered innocents!”
Regras chuckled darkly. “Loyalty and justice? Such noble ideals, Hawksley. But tell me, do your lofty principles comfort the people you’ve killed in the name of your kingdom? Or do you only cling to them to justify the blood on your hands?”
Mava’s fury flared, but her voice remained steady. “You’re a coward, hiding behind excuses to mask your crimes. Justice isn’t about comfort—it’s about doing what’s right, no matter the cost. And you’ll pay for every life you’ve taken.”
Regras’ smirk deepened. “So righteous. Let’s see how far that gets you.”
The arrogance in his voice was palpable, but Mava didn’t flinch. She’d faced worse—much worse. She had to keep it together. But there was a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something felt off.
“Captain,” Thaloril whispered urgently, his voice barely audible over the oppressive silence. “I’ve confirmed it. They’ve surrounded us. I don’t know how, but they’ve seem to blend in with the forest... they’ve been here longer than we thought.”
Mava’s heart skipped a beat. She cursed under her breath. “Dammit.” She glanced around quickly, realizing the situation was worse than it seemed. The bandits were everywhere, closing in from all sides. “What could they be planning?”
The firelight from the battle flickered in the distance, casting long, jagged shadows over the clearing. She could feel the weight of every second pressing down on her. This wasn’t just a simple raid. This felt like an ambush.
Regras, seemingly satisfied with the silence that had settled over them, stepped back, gesturing to his crew with a wide, malicious grin. “I think it’s time to end this little charade,” he announced, his voice carrying across the field. “Light them up, boys!”
At his command, the mages in the bandit crew began to chant, their voices rising in a guttural, dark incantation.
“I call upon the furnace where tainted souls are tormented, become thy strength and burn with my fury! HELL FIRE!”
A wave of crimson-red flame shot from the mages’ palms, crashing into the protective dome the adventurers had hastily erected. The fire splashed against it, sizzling and crackling as it threatened to breach their defenses.
Regras laughed, a deep, sinister chuckle. “Hahaha… Look at them cookin’ in there!” His eyes glittered with sadistic delight as he watched the adventurers squirm inside the dome.
Mava stood her ground, eyes fixed on the fire. She could feel the heat, but it wasn’t the flames that worried her—it was the bandits’ overwhelming numbers. They had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. She would have to break through them and fight her way out.
A moment later, as if to answer Regras’ taunt, Mava and Rodrick burst forth from the flames, their figures silhouettes against the raging fire. They surged forward with the force of a tide, charging straight at the bandits, weapons raised.
Regras’ smirk deepened. “A head-on charge? Such foolishness,” he taunted, his voice rich with amusement. “Get ready, boys! Let’s see how long they last.”
The bandits rallied behind him, their weapons gleaming in the moonlight as they closed in.
Mava’s eyes burned with fury, but she didn’t let it blind her. She had to keep her focus. Regras was just a man, no matter how monstrous his reputation, he has harmed a lot of innocent people. that traitor had to die because this is the justice of one who bears the axe for the kingdom, the justice of Hawksley's.
Mava charged with fierce determination, her giant axe cleaving through the bandits as Rodrick deflected blows with his shield. “GRAAAAAAGH!” Mava roared, pressing forward.
“Ha! What a madwoman!” Regras remarked, his amusement evident. Rodrick momentarily halted, then roared, “RAAAAAAHHH!” using a warrior skill to taunt the bandits. Most turned their focus on him, though Regras, impervious to their attacks, remained unaffected. As the dome shattered, Regras sought to eliminate Millea, the priestess aiming his spear, but she had vanished.
A subtle glow appeared behind the bandits while they are distracted fighting Mava and Rodrick. “Hey, IDIOTS! Over here!” Regras heard, turning to see a dwarf raising his hammer high. “SHIT!” he cursed. “QUAKE!” the dwarf bellowed, slamming his hammer into the ground with tremendous force. Regras and most of his crew was launched into the air.
“I call upon the power of the Lord of Darkness, grant these foolish souls the eternal cold of the night! EVER FROST!” Elanora chanted. A biting cold swept over the bandits, freezing them where they stood. “CHARGE!” Mava commanded, and the adventurers surged forward. “STORM OF ARROWS!” Thaloril cried as a hail of arrows rained down on the bandits. “GAAAGH!” they screamed, falling as the battle raged on. For two hours, arrows, magic, and spears flew in every direction, swords clashing. Despite their numbers, the bandits were clearly outmatched against the adventurers, this is a fight between quantity and quality.
Oddly, Regras remained still, a smile plastered on his face, his gaze fixed on Mava while his men die around him. “HEAVY THRUST!” Finrod shouted, attempting a strike from the side. Regras blocked the attack effortlessly.
“HEAVY SWING!” Regras countered, but Finrod dodged. “You’re quite skilled, kid!” Regras acknowledged.
“IT’S OVER! You’ve lost! SURRENDER OR DIE!” Finrod demanded.
“It’s over?” Regras replied, his voice dripping with menace. The air thickened as he stepped forward, his anger palpable in his bloodshot eyes. An uncanny dread washed over Finrod, forcing him to brace himself.
“IT’S OV—” Finrod began, but before he could finish, Regras appeared in front of him with blinding speed.
“HEAVY SWEEP!” Regras shouted, swinging his spear at Finrod. Finrod barely managed to block the attack, but the tremendous force drove him to one knee. “GAAAACK!” he groaned under the strain. Regras swung his spear back, readying for another strike. Seizing the moment, Finrod stepped back, creating some distance between them.
“What happened to him? Earlier, he seemed only a little stronger than me. I was supposed to keep him occupied while everyone else dealt with the rest of the bandits,” he pondered in fear. “They need to hurry, or else this guy will end up killing me.”
Finrod looked around and saw the bandit crew steadily dwindling. “Looks like I don’t have to wait much longer... I can go all out and leave the rest to them,” he thought. “DRAGON'S FURY!” he called out, invoking the blessings of the dragon for strength and speed hoping to fight Regras on equal footing. Finrod glared at Regras with determination.
“It’s over? Who are you to decide that?” Regras muttered, advancing slowly toward Finrod.
Finrod took an offensive stance and shouted, “HEAVEN PIERCING THRUST!” He thrust his spear at Regras, aiming for his heart. “GLORCKRRR,” Regras groaned, spitting out blood.
Seeing that he had pierced his heart, Finrod tried to shout, “I DID IT! IT’S OV—” but Regras started moving.
The next thing Finrod knew, he was hurtling through the air, unable to react.
the adventurer's eyes was immediately directed at Finrod.
“Wha—what just happened?” he gasped before blacking out.